


shackled

by kidlightnings (revolver)



Series: Whumptober 2019 [9]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst and Porn, Bad Sex, Dominant Asra (The Arcana), Light Dom/sub, Other, Submissive Julian Devorak, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 08:14:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21051176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/revolver/pseuds/kidlightnings
Summary: “Oh Ilya,” he coos down at the rigid form beneath him. “Why do you want what's bad for you?”





	shackled

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt 9 - Shackled, for [Whumptober 2019](https://whumptober2019.tumblr.com/post/187356400823/october-approaches-and-so-does-whumptober-2019)

Julian isn't bound physically, but he obeys all the same. He lays perfectly still under a cruel and teasing touch, under words that prickle his skin, make his hairs stand on end.

Asra doesn't speak to him cruelly for his benefit. Asra's voice is one of exhaustion, of beleaguered resignation that he's never going to get what he wants. They're the words born of frustration with someone who won't leave.

“Oh Ilya,” he coos down at the rigid form beneath him. “Why do you want what's bad for you?”

The air around them hangs heavy with incense. Julian is still dressed sans shoes, and Asra is still in trousers, but barefoot. Julian doesn't even know if he's going to get more than teasing.

“Ilya. Answer me. You wanted this, tell me why,” he says, hands pushing up under the already-rumpled shirt.

Asra's thumbs dig in against his ribs.

Julian opens his mouth to speak, but doesn't for a moment. He doesn't want to talk about it, but his gut says it will get him just a bit more- anything more of what he wants.

“It hurts less than what we do every day,” he answers, eyes drifting anywhere but Asra's face.

Asra smolders down at him. “Oh, look at you actually answering my questions,” he says, withdraws one hand to pop buttons, bare Julian to the low lights. The room is hot, the air almost oily with scent. Asra's hair is a tangled mess, and has seen cleaner days, days before they were at the palace library from sunrise to sunset and often into the night. Days before they had rooms to retire to, more often than not, and didn't step foot outside.

To be at Asra's shop was different. The smell of dust and lack of tending hid under all of that smoke.

Asra kisses his neck, and Julian slips, moves a hand to cup his head. It's quickly pinned back down.

“No, Ilya. Don't,” Asra warns, not lifting his head, and instead sinking in his teeth.

Julian moans, eyes closing. Asra may as well have tied him down, as heavy as the grasp feels on his wrist, even after Asra removes it to fondle him through his pants. Julian can only moan, whine against that touch. He wants to arch, to grind into it, and not being able to makes him nearly frantic with need.

“Are you going to have me fuck you, Ilya?” Asra asks between wet, hard sucks that trail down from neck into chest.

His tongue stirs the hair there, and he seems to struggle with himself before sealing his mouth against a nipple, sucking. He scrapes his teeth, and Julian howls. Does it hurt less? He assures himself, of course it does. It distracts him from the stink of death that has seeped into his skin. Asra's mouth, hands, clean it from him, whenever he can be convinced to.

Asra's hand leaves him, unbuttons and parts his trousers to rejoin so much warmer.

“Ilya.”

The single word pulls him back. “Asra- please, I- yes- please.”

Asra curses. Julian can't catch it exactly.

“Ok, I'm not going to be gentle,” he says, breath puffing against the wet skin he'd just had his mouth on.

“Please, don't,” Julian breathes.

Asra makes a little hum against him, and starts to work his trousers and everything under off in one jerking movement. Julian knows well enough that lifting his hips is allowed and expected even when he can't move an inch otherwise.

Asra has his other hand undoing the fastenings of his own pants. Low light is still enough to see as he strokes himself, lips drawing tight, and cheeks darkening. His eyes are closed as he draws himself erect.

He's breathtaking to Julian.

“Asra,” he murmurs, and Asra regards him as his eyes slide back open.

“Hush, Ilya,” he says, voice gentle, dreamy.

Julian knows he's not there. He's somewhere else. He doesn't think about the rest.

“Relax,” Asra says.

Julian isn't sure where the slickness he feels against himself came from. It was probably something he shouldn't think too hard at, some witchery, but as a single finger eases in, he shudders.

“Ilya.. Look at you.. You're doing so well. You're holding so still. You're not making any noise, and I know you want to so desperately.. You want to call out, you want to beg for me, don't you?”

Julian turns red at the praise, and his breathing quickens. He nods in a shallow movement.

Asra leans close, settled in between his legs, to tease a kiss against his lips. His finger still works and is soon joined by a second. Julian is shameless in how needy his kiss turns now that he has that tacit permission. Asra responds in kind, and Julian could never get sick of those lips, even when they cut him down, as long as he can be under them, can feel what a devil he is with that mouth. Julian feels the tip of his cock grow cold as much precum is beading on it, starting to trail down.

“Ilya,” Asra whispers, and the tone makes it worse- better- for him.

He bites his lip, bites back a moan. Asra hasn't said he could, yet, and he doesn't want to disappoint. Not when he feels something like  _ love _ in those moments, the final movements of opening him up before Asra pulls his fingers free, aligns his cock to Julian's entrance and pushes in.

His hands move to squeeze against hips, and Asra makes a soft sound. He murmurs something Julian can't make out. Maybe he doesn't want to, because maybe it was a name. It’s almost a whine, sad and desperate.

But then, if Julian weren’t about to draw blood from his lip, could he really say he’d not be in similar straits? He wants to beg for Asra, wants to beg to be touched, kissed, marked up.

Asra does kiss him. He slides his tongue against Julian’s lips, and Julian is so happy to oblige, allow him in. His breath hitches as Asra’s tongue meets his, at the same time as he feels the cock in him finally move. Asra stifles a moan into his mouth, draws back. Asra’s eyes are dark, but there’s a warmth to them that Julian could swear he only sees when he’s buried in him to the hilt.

“You’ve been  _ so _ \- ahh-  _ so good _ \- speak, use your voice,” Asra manages, thrusting in hard strokes, “let me hear you.”

Julian can tell that Asra is unraveling. He’s here, but in a different state of mind, different than the enigma who wouldn’t even allow a touch on his wrist. It’s where Julian finds him only when he’s using his body to fuck himself off.

Julian gasps, though, as he feels the push inside of himself, and he groans. He still can’t move, and he wants nothing more than to tug Asra in against him, fuck away whatever haunted him, whatever it was he couldn’t let go of.

He moans his name, though, desperate, stuttered out. Asra looks at him with an expression of wistfulness, brings a hand to clutch into his hair, tug his head back.

“Do you want  _ marks _ ,” he whispers against the shell of Julian’s ear.

“Asra-  _ please _ ,” he moans.

The feedback of teeth, hard sucking at his neck is immediate. Asra’s mouth is so hot, wet against him, and he cries out. He keeps going, doesn’t stop with just one. Julian will wear his collar buttoned up all the way for the next week.

“Please- Asra- can I touch you?” he asks, voice shaking.

Asra raises his head, smolders down at him, and punctuates with a hard, decisive thrust that has Julian’s eyes nearly closed, tears a ragged sound from his throat.

“Give me your hand,” he says, holds out his own.

Julian feels rattled, he trembles as he extends as directed, even as his insides are all but rearranged. Asra’s other hand takes the brunt of the force, steadies him, could tear the sheets were they not rumpled loose. Asra guides slim, pale fingers into his mouth, sucks at them.

Julian almost can’t breathe. He’s so fixated on the slide of a hot, wicked tongue against his fingertips, at lips around each digit. Saliva slides down his fingers.

“Is that what you wanted,” Asra asks, releasing them from his mouth, guiding that hand to rest against his cheek, lean into it.

He kisses the palm. Julian bends his fingers to slide under Asra’s jaw, guide them back together. Asra follows easily. He kisses, and Julian can feel the torrent of  _ longing _ in every movement.

“Ilya,” he murmurs between the breaking of each kiss, “love me.”

Julian seizes up under him, and it’s all Asra needs. He spills with a sudden moan. Shocking to Julian’s ears are his own name being yelled into the night.

Asra is rigid above him, jerks his hips back to pull out, but drops a hand to Julian’s length, almost an afterthought, but a thought nonetheless. Julian covers it with his own.

“N-no- you don’t need to-” Julian murmurs, but Asra casts his hand away.

“You indulged me, it’s the  _ least _ I can do,” he says.

Julian bucks into it, comes so fast.

“Ahh- there you go,” Asra says, smiles down at him, genuine, pleased. Cum drips from his hand, and he licks it off himself, before almost falling into the tangle of sheets, pillows alongside Julian.

“Should I g-” Julian starts, starts to get up.

“No. Stay,” Asra says, arrests Julian’s movement. He’s silent a while before continuing. “Ilya… hold me.”


End file.
